


Tattooed Heart

by KrisStylinson



Series: Nicotine [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Louis, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisStylinson/pseuds/KrisStylinson
Summary: “Is that fucking real?”Harry grins. “Feel for yourself.”A curious hand comes to trace over Harry’s chest, sighing in awe. “Harry.”He watches him as he does it and wishes he had a camera on him, because the sight of Louis’ dainty hand caressing the beautifulLwritten in intricate cursive right over Harry’s heart has to be the single greatest thing he’s ever seen.“Like it?” he asks.“Harry,” Louis repeats, suddenly digging his thumb into the skin as if it was going to disappear at any second—it wasn’t, something Harry’s tattoo artist made sure of. “That’s—that’s permanent.”“You’re permanent,” Harry replies, simple as can be.





	Tattooed Heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi!
> 
> if you follow(ed) me on tumblr, you know i've decided to ~leave~ the fandom for my own sake. i did still have a few works halfway done and if i don't post them, they'll just sit in my docs untouched for the rest of my life. some aren't worth posting since they don't have enough there, but i got a solid 10k on this and decided to share! kind of like a parting gift since my time writing here gave me some of the happiest memories ♡
> 
> this is technically incomplete in the sense that i had more planned, but i don't think there are any loose ends left by the end!

“Babe. No.”

 

Harry gives a crooked grin. “ _Yes_.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Louis argues, firm as ever with him even when he’s straddling the top of Harry’s lap. “You light one up and I’m not going anywhere near you for a week.”

 

“Louis,” Harry begins, disbelief coloring his tone. “You know that’s a lie, for one. And two, I don’t want us to start that perfect summer you’ve been planning in that pretty head of yours with an argument.” Smiling, he places a cigarette between his lips and starts digging in his pocket for a lighter.

 

Louis sighs loudly, dramatically. “That’s the whole _point_ , Harry. We’re not going to have the spectacular summer romance if I’m still having to kiss your smoker’s mouth.” He grabs the end of the cig and pinches, leveling Harry with a determined look. “Two weeks.”

 

Harry pauses his search long enough to drag his eyes over every inch of Louis’ face—definitely a little mad, he thinks. And he’s pretty sure his threat is actually serious. Sighing, Harry removes the cigarette from his mouth and tosses it aside. He wraps one hand around Louis’ waist while his other goes to rest at the small of his back. “I’m not trying to smoke to spite you, babe. It’s just a habit.”

 

“A dirty, filthy, _damning_ habit!” he exclaims dramatically. Both of his hands rise to Harry’s jaw, where he rubs a thumb over the tiny bits of stubble Harry had yet to shave. “It’s become a turn-off, Harry.”

 

“Now I _know_ that one’s a lie,” Harry accuses.

 

“It isn’t,” Louis counters. “Your bad boy charm is wearing off. I won’t let you away with it anymore.”

 

“Let me away with it?” Harry questions, careful to sound as playful as he intends the words to come off.

 

“Idea,” Louis interjects. He grins and arches his back so they’re that much closer together, tilting Harry’s head up by the hold on his jaw. Softly, he presses a peck to Harry’s lips that he shamelessly turns dirty within a few seconds. Harry responds enthusiastically, always one to believe arguments should end with a nice bit of making-out.

 

Too soon, Louis pulls away and Harry’s left staring at his spit-slick and swollen pink lips that are just begging Harry to go right back in. Before he can make a move, Louis is speaking yet again. “Every time you want a smoke, you tell me and I’ll give you that instead.”

 

It takes Harry a second to regain his bearings, but when he does, he’s smirking. “Bribery?”

 

“For your own good,” Louis clarifies. Suddenly, his face falls as he straightens up and looks down at Harry. “Wait. I’m not being the controlling boyfriend, am I?”

 

Harry scoffs indignantly, grabbing both of Louis’ hands and holding them to his chest. “I’m very offended that you think you could control me,” he begins, then brings up Louis’ fingers to kiss each knuckle. He knows he’s done right when Louis smiles like the sun. “And you’re right. Smoking’s not nearly as fun as kissing you.” He frowns. “It’ll just be a bitch to kick.”

 

Louis hums. “I mean it, Harry. I don’t want this to be something you bring up in an argument ten years from now.”

 

It’s obvious he’s nervous as the words come tumbling from his mouth. It means he’s not smiling anymore, and Harry hates when he isn’t smiling.

 

“Ten years from now,” he begins, rubbing the back of Louis’ hands with his thumb. “I’ll be thanking you for lengthening my life, and thus the amount of time I get to spend with you.” He smirks, one hand over his heart and the other raised in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

 

The thought doesn’t sound bad at all.

 

Louis’ lips land back on his in an instant and Harry’s suddenly too incoherent to think about anything else.

 

~~~

 

“I think I’m in love with him,” Harry says, realization hitting him as hard as a brick to the face.

 

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud and it’s weird for him, right, but it doesn’t feel _wrong_. It’s—it’s _scary_.

 

And yet. “I know,” is Zayn’s only response.

 

Harry really and truly appreciates that Zayn isn’t a man of many words, because often Harry either doesn’t care for or has no clue what to say in a conversation; it’s one of the reasons Harry deemed him better than tolerable in the first place. But. This is something pretty fucking huge, and he really would like to see an appropriate reaction from his best friend.

 

And all he got was an _I know_.

 

Harry huffs and doesn’t hand off the blunt to Zayn when he reaches for it out of spite. (He’s decided weed doesn’t count in their no-smoking rule all of ten minutes ago, mostly because Zayn had shown up with a free baggie.) “What do you mean _I know_? You didn’t know, you twat, because I didn’t even know up until ten seconds ago.”

 

This causes Zayn to sigh. He opens his eyes and sits up—much more effort than Harry usually sees Zayn put into anything—and somehow snatches the blunt from Harry’s hand without burning himself. Zayn doesn’t react, simply brings the joint to his lips and takes a hit. “Just ‘cause you didn’t realize it doesn’t mean you weren’t.”

 

Harry feels confused and he hates it. “Is that how this works?”

 

A puff of smoke and then, “I would guess so.”

 

There’s a brief silence in which Harry’s thoughts are pounding at his brain a mile a minute. He jolts out of nowhere and widens his eyes in panic. “You think he loves me, too, right?”

 

Zayn hums. “Sure.”

 

He’s acting nonchalant, but this is everything but. It’s one thing for Harry to be _in love_ with Louis, but it’s another altogether for Louis not to love him back. If Zayn thinks he’s being annoying now, he would be downright insufferable if that were the case.

 

“This is serious,” Harry says, still doesn’t get how Zayn isn’t seeing that. “I’m not gonna be calmed down by a half-assed _sure._ ”

 

Silent, Zayn shrugs. “Calming you down isn’t my job anymore, remember? You’ve got Louis now.”

 

It would sound like he was jealous if Harry didn’t know him better. But he does, and he knows Zayn’s just pointing out what he takes as fact.  It doesn’t stop Harry from rolling his eyes. “You could still offer, like. A line of advice. Or something.”

 

“Okay,” Zayn agrees, letting his head roll to the side so he’s facing Harry. “My advice would be to talk to Louis about this.”

 

Harry flicks his lighter open and closed just to have something to do. “You’re only saying that to get yourself out of this.”

 

Zayn shrugs. “Louis is your keeper now.”

 

In a burst of energy, Harry slaps the back of Zayn’s head with a pillow. “Dick,” he mumbles, grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch and sliding it back on.

 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Zayn asks, suddenly very alert after the pillow to the head he received. Harry’s not sorry.

 

“Going to talk to Louis about this.” He digs in the pocket for his keys and turns toward the front door. He’s going to tell Louis he loves him. Because he does. And just because Louis hasn’t said it yet doesn’t mean that Harry shouldn’t go first. Because he loves him.

 

The nerves hit him all at once, and suddenly he flops back into his seat. He reaches for the joint in Zayn’s hand and snatches it before he can take another hit. “Maybe after we finish this off.”

 

Zayn laughs at him.

 

~~~

 

Talking to Louis about it doesn’t happen the next day. Or the day after that. Or even in the following week since Harry’s discovery. He’s seen Louis, of course, because they’ve ended up with each other more often than without, and yet Harry hasn’t given Louis any insight at all into his head.

 

It’s hard, too. Because Louis laughs, or plays with the rings on Harry’s fingers, or tugs on his hair for attention and all Harry’s thinking about is how much he loves him. Even when he demands a kiss upon Harry’s arrival to judge whether or not he’s had a cig and insisting on placing a nicotine patch on his arm himself, Harry’s somehow only endeared.

 

Harry’s sure he’s going to burst right out of his own skin if he doesn’t tell him soon. He’s also sure he’ll explode if he does.

 

But. He has to do it. Just maybe he could calm down first.

 

With Louis’ hands down his pants in his bedroom with demands that Harry remain quiet, he’s the opposite of calm. But maybe he’s better off this way—work out all his nerves until it’s time to give Louis the three words that threaten to throw themselves out of Harry’s mouth on the daily.

 

“We’ve got, like, ten minutes,” Louis breathes against his neck, biting and nipping and kissing like someone starved. Which. It has been a good three days since they’ve found the time for things like this which really feels more like a lifetime. “Dinner’s gonna be done by then. Got a rubber?”

 

Harry’s eyes bug out of his head. “You want me to fuck you in ten minutes?”

 

Louis’ answering grin more resembles a smirk than anything. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your stamina is pretty spectacular most of the time, but you’re also a teenage boy. Could pull you off in half the time.”

 

“Shh,” Harry mumbles, taking the blow in stride and reaching for the condom in his pocket that he had luckily grabbed before getting over here—fate. “I’m the best fuck of your life.”

 

“Well,” Louis shrugs. “Got ten minutes to remind me.”

 

Harry _would_ remind him. He’ll very happily give the love of his life the fuck of his life if that’s what he so desires.

 

In one swift move, he’s got Louis on his stomach underneath him. He spreads his legs open with one hand while using the other to pull open the packet with his teeth. Louis lets out a surprised sort of moan when he starts to yank his pants down to his knees, but Harry’s suddenly got an eyeful of bum and two very interested hands.

 

He makes a firm request for the lube out of Louis’ top drawer, to which Louis hands him the bottle and mumbles, “Don’t spend too much time on me. Already took care of that.”

 

Skeptical, Harry reaches a hand between his cheeks and sure enough, it’s wet. He lets out a whimper—an actual fucking whimper—at that and presses a hand into his crotch. Louis fingered himself. Not that Harry ever expected him not to, but it’s different to have to proof right at his literal fingertips. There’s an array of questions floating through Harry’s head— _did you think of me? How long did you go for? Did it feel as good as me?_ —but ultimately, the only one he verbalizes is, “Did you come?”

 

Louis lets out a shaky breath, but that could be more because Harry’s just slid two lubed fingers into him without warning. “I—almost,” he whispers, shamelessly grinding back onto Harry’s hand. “God, I got _so_ close, babe. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

He’s pulling his own trousers down just enough to get his cock out, hurries to roll the condom on and lube himself up, but careful not to give himself too much friction. He’s sure he could bust at the right gust of wind at the moment. “And now?”

 

A huff. “I wouldn’t have asked for ten minutes of sex if I didn’t think it could finish me off.”

 

Harry smiles. “Flattering,” he mumbles, and makes sure any response Louis could’ve had is swallowed by the moan he lets out when Harry finally presses the tip inside.

 

“Fuck,” Louis grits out, slaps Harry on the arm without remorse. “Warn me, I’m trying to keep _quiet_.”

 

“Shh,” Harry replies. He rests his elbows on either side of Louis and slides into him as gently as he can muster. It’s taking a lot not to make any noise for his own part either—his dick is telling him to fuck Louis quick and hard until he’s screaming his name, but his brain is reminding him that he can’t do much unless he wants another scolding.

 

So he settles for hard, but slow. Almost imperceptible to the ear. Unless you’re Harry, who’s listening so, so intently to make sure he stays quiet for his boy.

 

He starts kissing him somewhere in the middle of it, swallows down every tiny whimper and moan Louis accidentally lets out. He reaches out to intertwine his fingers with Louis’ and holds his hand above his head, keeps it there while he thrusts. Suddenly he’s remembering that _oh my God, I’m in love with this guy_ , and he thinks he might be making truth out of the phrase making love for the first time, like. Ever.

 

“Louis,” he whispers, panting with the effort it’s taking to stay calm when he’s feeling so overwhelmed. “I love you.”

 

Louis’ breath hitches, and Harry isn’t sure if it’s because he’s in shock or because he’s hit his prostate. Which. He probably shouldn’t have chosen _now_ , in the middle of what is technically a quickie for all intents and purposes, to finally spill his feelings. But the words are out and it’s not like Harry can regret them. It could even be poetic if he tries hard enough, he supposes. Coming full circle from fucking out of hate to his first I love you in the midst of sex—

 

“My god,” Louis says, squeezes Harry’s fingers tight in the hand he’s still managing to hold. “I love you, too. So much.”

 

A grin overtakes Harry’s face, his heart feeling like it’s going to swell right out of his chest. It’s a new feeling, but it’s for Louis, and he can’t say he hates it. “Louis,” he mumbles, can’t think of much else to say. “Louis, babe.” He starts kissing him again, unintentionally rough and biting because he’s suddenly a man possessed. “Love,” he whispers, thrusts the slightest bit faster and abruptly comes.

 

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, and Harry’s just coherent enough to wrap a hand around him and wank him off until he feels his come hit his fingers. Once he’s sure they’re both taken care of, he goes back to kissing him, can’t get his fill of kissing him.

 

Louis is typically pliant after an orgasm and he’s no different right now. It’s difficult because this whole being in love thing—it has Harry energetic, jumpy, ready to run a marathon. But Louis is soft and breathy, so Harry will accommodate.

 

“I love you,” he says gently, mouth right against Louis’ ear lobe. “Love you, Lou. Love everything about you, right down to the annoying bits.”

 

Louis huffs a laugh, threads a hand through Harry’s hair and gets a good look at his face. Harry tries to keep from grinning like an idiot—he’s sure if Zayn saw him right now, he’d lose all the cool points he’d scored with him. “Yeah. Love you, too. Even the part that chose to tell me this _now_ , when we’re moments away from joining my family for dinner.”

 

Harry smiles, plants another kiss on his cheek because he can. “I love the part of you that figured moments away from joining your family for dinner was a good time for sex.”

 

“You want to complain about having sex?” Louis accuses, raising an unimpressed brow at Harry.

 

Harry makes a face. “I love you.”

 

“Mhmm,” Louis mutters. “Put your clothes on, animal.”

 

Harry would be an idiot not to listen.

 

~~~

 

It’s been two weeks of summer, and Harry has yet to attend any party he’s been invited to.

 

It’s more or less due to spending as much time as he possibly could with Louis. Which is his own choice, because who _wouldn’t_ want to spend as much time as they possibly could with the person they love, but Louis is suddenly worried that he’s smothering him.

 

“You can still go out, you know. I’m pretty sure we established I’m not capable of controlling you, so you can go get reasonably hammered without me breathing down your neck, Styles.”

 

Harry looks quizzically at Louis, because up until now he had figured things were good. They _were_ good for him at least. “You getting tired of my pretty face?”

 

Louis barks out a short laugh. “Never. Just don’t want you to start resenting me when you realize you spent your entire summer in my bedroom.” Before Harry can make the obvious insinuation, Louis covers his mouth with his hand. “ _Meaning_ you should be out doing whatever it is you do to keep up your bad boy persona, so long as it’s legal.”

 

He licks Louis’ hand until he removes it and hastily remarks, “Not a convict, babe.” A sigh. “I like spending time with you anyway. See, before, it was like I was filling a void by doing bad things. But now _you_ fill it.”

 

“Oh, how lovely.” Louis throws a pillow at his head. “Asshole.”

 

“Come on,” Harry says firmly, grabbing the pillow and pushing it aside. He puts a hand on Louis’ thigh with a smile, hopes it keeps him calm for another five minutes at least lest another pillow come at his face. “Don’t want to talk about how your boyfriend is a fixer-upper?”

 

“You’re not,” Louis argues. “You’re just Harry.”

 

Harry hums. “Right.”

 

It’s silent for a moment in which Harry rests his head against Louis’ headboard while Louis rests his own against Harry’s shoulder. Harry is very much content with the position, enough so that he’d be happy to hold it for at least another hour, but Louis apparently has other plans.

 

“Zayn told me that Nick’s having a party tonight,” he mumbles, latches a few fingers around Harry’s bicep.

 

“And?” Harry deadpans.

 

“And,” Louis begins, looking up to Harry’s face with a sigh. “I’ll go with you.”

 

At this, Harry pauses. He hasn’t gotten Louis back to another party since the one where they had their first time. In his defense, he didn’t actually try to bring him along to any because Louis hadn’t seemed to enjoy the one he’d been to up until Harry got him alone. He didn’t figure Louis _wanted_ to go to parties with him anymore.

 

“You don’t like parties,” he states, “or Nick.”

 

Louis shrugs. “I like you. Call it compromise.”

 

Harry bites his lip. On the one hand, a party with Louis on his arm sounds near perfect. On the other, he knows how Louis is when he gets upset, and he’s snappy. He doesn’t want to be the cause of that.

 

“Tell you what,” Louis says when Harry’s presumably been silent for too long. “You go, and if you decide you don’t want to be there anymore, I’ll sneak us off to a bedroom and calm you down.” He pauses, looking dramatically thoughtful. “Or rile you up.”

 

Harry presses a grin into the side of Louis’ face, pulls him close and plants kiss after kiss against the skin. “I love you.”

 

“And I love you,” he returns the sentiment. “Now let me up.”

 

Three hours later, and Harry’s just on the right side of tipsy while Louis clings tightly to his arm.

 

They’d seen Niall about a half hour ago, spoken to him a bit before he claimed to be off for drinks and never came back. Harry assumes he’s found at least ten separate groups of people to talk to in that time and he doesn’t expect him to return any time soon.

 

Zayn, on the other hand, is sitting quietly to Louis’ other side because he keeps grabbing onto his arm every time he tries to get up and leave. Zayn’s not bothered because whatever girl he’s waiting on still hasn’t shown up and that’s apparently the only reason he came.

 

Every so often, Harry catches a glance at Louis’ phone screen and sees him texting Liam. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that he’s uncomfortable, and Harry knows Louis better than anyone at NASA.

 

He sighs and tries to come up with a way to help him out without making him feel like he’s ruining Harry’s night, because he most definitely isn’t but Louis can be sensitive. He glances around the room for anyone he may know, perhaps someone he could get on with like he got on with Zayn, just so he didn’t feel like such an outcast.

 

Before he can narrow down his options, Nick is clapping a hand on his shoulder with a smile. “Good to see you’re alive.”

 

Louis’ fingers get a tighter grip and then loosen so quickly that Harry almost believes he imagined it. He coughs and looks up at Nick’s face with a smile. “Course I am.”

 

“Was hard to believe,” Nick interjects. “What with you dodging every invitation we gave you.”

 

Harry makes sure to keep his arm tight around Louis as he replies, “I had some better things to tend to.” He tilts his head with a smile. “No offense.”

 

It wasn’t mean by Harry’s standards, but Louis still curls up into him, pleased, as if he’s just fought and beat a suitor for his honor.

 

Nick looks between the two of them and nods. “Well. Glad you both made it.”

 

Harry nods his head silently while Louis finally gives his first acknowledgement of Nick with a smile. Nick is gone soon after, the awkward silence almost too much for even Harry to bear, but he deals. He’s rewarded moments later with half a lapful of Louis and a kiss to the jaw.

 

“Love you,” Louis whispers, so quietly that if he wasn’t right at Harry’s ear he probably wouldn’t have heard him. Harry grins and secures a hand on Louis’ hip. “Love you, too.”

 

A cough to their left reminds them of Zayn’s presence. He gives the both of them an annoyed yet amused type of look and shakes his head. “It really seemed like Louis was making you soft,” he says to Harry, then more broadly, “but turns out you’ve both just turned into assholes.”

 

Louis jabs a hand into his side, smirks when it results in Zayn flinching away. “Don’t you have someone to go get in bed with? Or something.”

 

Zayn tries to keep from smiling but he eventually fails and settles on giving them a, “I can only handle you two together in small doses, I swear,” before getting up and running off to wherever.

 

His eyes quickly find their way back to Louis’ face—Louis, who is grinning like the devil and swinging a leg over Harry’s lap and settling himself in. The action takes Harry by surprise, his hands reaching out to make sure Louis stays steady while he almost _yells_ , “Babe!”

 

Louis laughs and reaches behind himself to grasp at Harry’s hands. “Shh. We’re fine.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes but keeps his hold on Louis nonetheless. “What’s gotten into you, then?”

 

Louis scoffs and straightens his back. “Please. No one’s paying attention and we’re hardly looking scandalous. I’d say we’re the tamest couple here,” he says, gesturing to one corner where it appears that a couple’s hands are in each other’s pants and neither of them are attempting to hide it. “Besides, didn’t you hear Zayn? I’m bad now.”

 

Harry hums. “Course you are.” He shifts, aiming to look harmless but mostly wanting to give Louis a little grind, win back some of his innate control. “I’m really craving a cigarette right now.”

 

It’s obvious for both of them what comes next. Ever since their deal, Harry had arguably taken advantage of it by getting Louis to kiss him any time he wanted. Not that Louis ever complained, because Harry did still use it when he needed to and it is having its desired effect. Just sometimes a little extra, too.

 

“I bet,” Louis whispers before his lips come into contact with Harry’s. Harry groans into his mouth, doesn’t bother keeping his hands to himself in the middle of what looks like a soft-core orgy with the amount of PDA around the room. Their corner is secluded enough that Louis doesn’t get apprehensive about the hands on his bum or the mouth currently headed for his collarbones.

 

It’s the perfect scene for Harry to try out something that’s been at the back of his mind for weeks now.

 

“Babe?” Harry mumbles, delivering a sharp nip to his jaw. Louis hums in answer, eyes hooded and head tossed back as a plea for more. Harry grins; he really does have such a beautiful boy. “You enjoying yourself?”

 

Louis nods his head jerkily. Harry kisses underneath his chin this time, squeezes his bum in his hands as he asks, “Is it ‘cause you know how easy it would be for you to get caught like this?”

 

He feels Louis still in his lap. He looks up to his face to make sure he hasn’t crossed a line, but Louis is biting his lip with his pupils blown wide. Harry watches him squirm before he finally shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe.”

 

Harry rubs soothingly up his sides in efforts to keep him calm. “It’s okay if it makes you feel good,” he whispers, tops it off with a genuine smile. It’s almost visible how soft Louis goes for the words, pliant as putty in Harry’s hands. It still never fails to suck the breath out of Harry’s lungs.

 

He’s sure Louis’ teeth are going to leave indentions in his lip with how long he’s been chewing at them now. “I’m—” he pauses and rests his head in the crook of Harry’s neck as if he’s _nervous_. “It’s just—hard.”

 

Harry grins and takes a hold of Louis’ waist before kissing him right behind his ear. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing is around me, yeah?”

 

Louis nods minutely into his shoulder, causing Harry to frown. Clearly, Louis is tentative and he needs a new approach just in case it’s him that’s causing it.

 

“Think about how it feels for me,” he begins, hoping Louis doesn’t take his words the wrong way. If he knows Louis, though—well, he wouldn’t be saying it if he didn’t. “Got my beautiful boy sitting here feeling good for everyone to see.”

 

Louis goes slack against him, suddenly creating the perfect dip in his spine for Harry’s hands to rest in. “It’s okay, though. Because as much as they look and wish and want, you’re only gonna come home with me, aren’t you?”

 

“Harry,” Louis finally speaks, pressing his chest as close to Harry’s as he possibly can. Harry grins at the contact.

 

“What is it, Lou?” he asks, can’t help the cocky tone he takes on when he looks at Louis’ flushed face.

 

Louis doesn’t utter another word, instead panting against Harry’s cheek. Harry shifts the slightest bit to get more comfortable, but the new position somehow gets him closer to Louis than he was before and he can suddenly feel Louis’ hard-on pressed into his thigh.

 

“God,” he breathes, brushing a few strands of hair from Louis’ forehead. “This really does get you worked up, huh?”

 

“No,” Louis pants. “I mean _yes_ , but no. Just—give me a couple minutes to calm down, okay? We’re not leaving.”

 

His tone doesn’t leave any room for Harry to argue so he doesn’t even try. He just sits with his hands on Louis’ back while Louis tries to recollect himself.

 

He keeps breathing hard for a few minutes until it finally starts to slow. Harry’s trying his best to just sit and wait for him, but his brain is chanting at him that he should feel smug. _He_ got Louis so wound up that he needs a breather by giving him a few words and some barely-indecent touching. _He_ is the one with a lap full of hot and bothered Louis Tomlinson. _He_ is the one Louis is leaving with, not anyone else, and it’s those thoughts that cause the smirk to rest on his face.

 

“You good?” Harry asks, rubbing innocently up his spine. Louis sucks in another long breath and straightens his back, taking one look at Harry’s expression before rolling his eyes.

 

“Stop looking so satisfied,” he accuses. He (sadly) removes himself from Harry’s lap one leg at a time and sprawls back against the couch. Harry gives him an exaggerated frown with his lower lip jutted out paired with a slow blink to really lay it on thick; Louis kisses his pout and shoves him away, so Harry half-wins.

 

“So,” Louis begins, “What kind of stuff d’you usually get up to at these things?”

 

Harry hums dutifully. “Spin the bottle—” Louis rolls his eyes. “—except you don’t kiss whoever you land on, but fuck. Full frontal in the middle of the circle. Pretty steamy.”

 

A shove lands on his shoulder. “You fucking liar.”

 

“There’s also this game where you and your partner race to see who can make who orgasm first.” Harry shrugs. “Usually evolves into an orgy.”

 

“ _Stop,_ ” Louis pleads, but he’s also laughing so Harry isn’t as offended as he could be.

 

“What? Not raunchy enough for you?” Harry lets out a laugh of his own, a smile gracing his face as he watches Louis get more and more entertainment out of his exaggerations. “Really. It’s nothing, Lou. Just some talking, loud conversations. _Maybe_ a vase breaks by the end of the night.”

 

“Really?” he asks, slipping into his usual melodramatic self all too easily. “Sounds boring. Don’t know what enjoyment you could get from this.”

 

Harry shrugs. “ _I_ wasn’t going to come, but.”

 

“Oh, shove it.”

 

Harry pokes his tongue out at him in response right as a hand lands on his shoulder—his head whips around to meet an inebriated Niall.

 

“You’re here!” he exclaims with a smile. His eyes glance toward Louis and his lips grow into a grin. “And you’re here!” He seems to be searching for a third person, frowning when he doesn’t find anyone else. “Where’s Liam?”

 

Louis laughs. “Not back until next week.” Harry thinks for a second before he remembers Louis telling him about how lucky Liam was to be on a near-month long vacation with his family. Apparently it’s an annual thing. “Not sure he’d wanna be here anyway.”

 

Niall shakes his head. “He _promised_ me… he’s got _nothing_ to worry about for months now. He’s trying it out.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes with the fond smile Harry loves so much gracing his features. “He just might do it for you.”

 

“He will. He’s Liam Payne! Payno. He’ll be a party _aficionado_.”

 

The last word comes out exaggerated and jumbled, so Harry steps in with a, “Maybe you should chug some water,” before Niall bats his hand dismissively and makes his way over to another group of people like the social butterfly he is.

 

“Well,” Louis says. “I can at least warn Liam.”

 

Harry watches Niall slap an empty solo cup onto a table and mumbles, “I’m afraid that will do you no good.”

 

~~~

 

Louis likes Nick.

 

It isn’t a bad thing by any means, and yet something ugly twists in his stomach the very first time Louis admits the fact to him.

 

“So maybe Nick isn’t that bad,” he had mumbled one night, leaning into Harry’s side as they laid on the hood of Harry’s car because Louis told him he read that in a book once and he wanted to try it for himself. It wasn’t practical to lie in the cool night air on a hard piece of metal, so Harry obviously had a blanket laid out for the two of them plus a pillow or two.

 

Harry hums. “Really?”

 

Louis squirms. “Like, he’s still a fucking prick. But maybe he’s… tolerable.”

 

“You think so,” Harry mutters, attempting nonchalant, but there’s no denying the grin on his face.

 

“Don’t let this leave the two of us, H,” Louis whispers, “but he’s actually funny.”

 

It’s a harmless statement, one that Harry can do nothing but respond, “My lips are sealed,” to, and yet his stomach knots up all the same.

 

It’s happened every time since then, too, even with Harry’s best attempts to get the fuck over it. He doesn’t get it—he doesn’t care if Louis and Nick were friends, he had _suggested_ it himself not long ago to begin with. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with Louis being friends with his friends, so why the fuck did he feel the need to hate it so much?

 

The boiling point arrives at the most inconvenient time: in the middle of another one of Nick’s dumb fucking parties.

 

Niall had actually convinced Liam to show up to this one after he returned from vacation, so Louis has been keeping him close as a form of comfort. Surprisingly, Liam had calmed down about ten minutes in and was already talking animatedly with _Zayn_ , of all people.

 

With those two occupied and Niall making his usual rounds of conversation, it left Louis and Harry to themselves all over again. And again, Nick has to show up and open his mouth. But this time, he addresses Louis first.

 

“Fancy finding you here,” he says with the same strange smile he’s always sporting, and Harry’s fist goes to clench on reflex. Louis, oblivious, responds, “Your house is always full of people, Grimshaw.”

 

 _Grimshaw_? Nicknames?

 

“Gotta keep occupied somehow.” The same grin is still there, _God_. “Here.” He holds out one of the solo cups in his hand to Louis, who takes a smell of the drink as Nick passes the other one to Harry, who takes a sip wordlessly.

 

Louis frowns. “This smells like fruit that’s been watered down with alcohol.”

 

Nick laughs, nodding his direction toward the kitchen. “Bartender cousin of mine showed up.” He points to the cup in Louis’ hands. “That’s a _Sex on the Beach_.”

 

Harry wastes no time in giving Nick an unamused look. “Are you kidding me?”

 

Another chuckle falls from Nick’s mouth, clearly taking Harry’s anger as a joke. Louis, however, stiffens up and scoots a little closer to him before cutting his conversation with Nick short as politely as he can.

 

Once Nick’s back is disappearing into the crowd: “What the fuck, Harry?”

 

Harry looks at him with his eyebrows perched and mouth slightly opened, like it’s obvious. “He gave you a _Sex on the Beach_ , Louis. Who does that to someone’s boyfriend when you’re sitting right there?”

 

“Your asshole friend, maybe?” Louis responds. “Look, we both know Grimmy’s a dick. He probably thought it was funny.”

 

“Maybe _Grimmy_ should tone it down a bit,” Harry mutters, swirling the drink in his cup before taking another quiet sip.

 

It’s silent for a moment; when Harry looks over, Louis is staring at him. Before he gets a chance to ask what’s wrong, Louis is stating, “You’re jealous.”

 

Harry wants to say he doesn’t even have to think before he rejects the notion, but he falters all the same. _Is_ he jealous? Of _Nick_? Sure, he’s going to get a little possessive and upset when his best mate gets _his_ Louis grinding on him during a party, even if it is all in the name of bringing them together, but to be jealous of Louis being friends with someone? Surely he isn’t. No, he can’t be.

 

The fact that he even has to think about it worries him.

 

Louis huffs. “You spend weeks going on and on about ‘he’s not so bad’ and ‘you two have so much in common’ and ‘just give him a try, Lou’, and now that I do, you’re getting your precious little panties in a knot—”

 

“No, Louis, that’s not—” He sighs. “I _want_ you guys to be friends, I just don’t want you to be so…” He bites his lip. “…friendly.”

 

“You want me to be his friend, but not _friendly_ with him? What does that even _mean_?”

 

Harry scrambles for the right words to say, only managing to get out a, “No, I—” before his mind blanks once again.

 

“Harry,” Louis mumbles, voice much softer than the annoyed tone it took on a few minutes earlier. “You know I’m not going to try to leave you for anyone—for fucking _Nick_ least of all. I’ve hated him the majority of my high school years. I’m not gonna turn that on its head just from talking to him a couple of times without wanting to rip his head off— _which_ , might I add, I only tried for your sake.”

 

Harry shrugs, then in the smallest voice he can ever remember coming from his own mouth, “’s pretty much what you did with me.”

 

“Oh. Babe.” Louis sounds half exasperated, half fond. He rubs one hand over Harry’s cheek with a shake of his head. “You’re special. You’re _Harry._ ”

 

He grabs the hand on his face and holds it between both of his own. “Not long ago was I just another asshole to you, Lou.”

 

“Still are,” Louis amends quietly with a soft, intimate sort of smile. “You’re just my asshole now.”

 

Harry curls his lip up. “That sounds disgusting.”

 

Louis laughs, carefree, and wraps both of his arms around Harry’s shoulder as he leans in for a kiss on the cheek. Harry can’t deny that it feels nice. “I love my asshole.”

 

He tries to keep his face normal as he replies as honestly as ever, “I love you, too.”

 

 _Maybe_ he could stand to be the jealous type.

 

~~~

 

“You have to tell me what you want, Harry, or you’re just gonna keep getting blow jobs from me.”

 

Harry grins. “I love your blow jobs.”

 

Louis groans and puts two hands on Harry’s chest. “Please. Just give me _something_ to go on, a hint maybe.”

 

An hour ago, Louis drove to Harry’s after Harry informed him that he had the house to himself for the weekend. When Louis walked in, he was already half hard and antsy. Harry wanted to take care of that as soon as he possibly could—Louis came only fifteen minutes after his arrival. And Louis, he always wanted to reciprocate no matter what. Except this time, he didn’t want to “just” suck Harry off as he so politely put it.

 

“I just want to do something more for you,” he whispers, bare bum perched on top of Harry’s naked thighs. “Come on, what is it you like? Want me to mess with your four nipples? Bite your neck? Come on your face?”

 

Harry makes a face. “I’m glad I’m not asking for dirty talk.”

 

Louis pouts. “Then what are you asking for?”

 

Harry remains silent.

 

“Okay,” Louis hums, petulant. “Then I’ll just keep guessing.”

 

He looks thoughtful as he sits back and stares at the ceiling. Harry takes advantage of the moment to appreciate Louis in all of his naked glory, from the dips of his collarbones to the delicious curve where his hips taper into his waist, from the dusty pink of his nipples to the defined line of his jaw. He’s easily the prettiest thing Harry’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

 

“You liked when I scratched your back,” Louis suddenly says matter-of-factly, as if he’s just cracked a difficult code. “Our first time. You went _mad_ for it.”

 

Harry remembers that very well. He remembers Louis wanting him close, digging his fingernails into his back to accomplish as much. He remembers how fucking amazing it felt, the sting on his back every time he thrusted into Louis for the very first time—it was by far the hottest sex he’s had, and he thinks that has everything to do with it being with Louis.

 

“I wouldn’t say _mad_ for it,” Harry argues, laughing when Louis gives him a stern look. “I won’t stop you from doing it either.”

 

It was probably as close to asking for something as Harry would get. He was used to drawing out the words and pleas from his partner, not the other way around. Of course he’d always be willing to try something for Louis, but. Baby steps.

 

Louis is on the right track, anyway.

 

Suddenly, Louis’ nails drag down from Harry’s chest to his v-line. He can’t help but moan at the feeling.

 

Louis pauses. “That good?” When Harry responds with a quiet, “Yes,” Louis’ grin blinds him.

 

In a second, Louis is leaning into Harry with a smile on his lips. He sucks a mark into Harry’s neck, maybe a little rougher than necessary, before moving up to kiss him. He feels Louis lick into his mouth, the way he always does himself when he’s the one calling the shots. But, right now, Louis wants to take over and Harry is willing to let him think he’s in control long enough to please him.

 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to just lie there, though. He waits until the kiss gets deeper and nips Louis’ lip hard enough that when he pulls back, the skin is a shiny red.

 

He grins at the sight of his work while Louis rubs gently over his own lip. “You bit me.”

 

Harry hums. “I like it rough.”

 

Louis leans down to nip Harry’s jaw, just underneath his ear. Predictably, Harry moans. He kitten licks over the spot and moves so he and Harry are looking each other in the eyes again. “You want me to be rougher with you?”

 

Harry smirks. “Cute. But what if what I want is to be rough with _you_?”

 

When Louis shivers, Harry knows it’ll only be a few more minutes before he’s got Louis begging for him, and the thought makes his cock twitch. Louis speaks a second later, voice breathy. “I’d let you.”

 

Instead of boasting about how he knows Louis would let him do next to anything to him, he grabs Louis’ wrist and holds them together in one hand, asks very, very calmly, “Can I tie you up?”

 

He hears the difference in Louis’ breathing almost instantly; it’s short and choppy, shallow and quick. He tightens his grip on his wrists just for emphasis and stares at Louis’ flushed face until words fall from his bitten lips. “Yes.”

 

A grin. “Lay down.”

 

He moves off the bed while Louis scrambles to get himself in the position Harry’s asked for. Harry goes pointedly to his closet and pulls out a silky headscarf.

 

“I’ve had this put up for a while now.” He takes slow, powerful steps toward the bed when he notices Louis’ eyes boring into him. “Picked it out special to tie you up with. It’s soft and pretty, just like you.”

 

He watches as Louis subconsciously rubs at his skin, can see the blatant want blazing in his eyes. “It’s nice.”

 

Harry nods. “Hands above your head, baby.”

 

Louis complies without a second thought and it gets to Harry in ways no partner has ever gotten to him before. He spreads Louis’ legs with his hands and crawls up the bed until he’s got his cock pressed right against the skin of Louis’ bum and ties the scarf around his wrists agonizingly slow. Once Louis secure enough to keep him still but not so tight it hurts, Harry relishes in the position by rutting forward a few times, doesn’t stop until Louis moans loud enough for his liking.

 

His arms come to rest at Louis’ sides as he gives him one last kiss, licks over the swollen, red mark he left on his lips while Louis pants.

 

It takes him no time at all to lube up his fingers and press his index into Louis’ hole. He pumps it a few times, quick and to the point, just rough enough to satisfy himself. Once Louis is properly debauched, Harry slips another inside.

 

Prep used to be something he’d mentally gloss over. It was time-consuming and boring, but sadly necessary. But with Louis—every single noise he can draw from him with just his _fingers_ makes him want to go even longer, prep him for hours on end. He hasn’t, of course, because once he’s taken a second longer than he has to, Louis snaps at him to get a move on.

 

He loves watching Louis come apart for him. He loves making Louis so desperate for his cock. He loves _Louis_.

 

However badly he wants to keep up his ministrations, he knows to speed it up when Louis is grinding back on him like this. He’s even fucking _whimpering_ , how can Harry deny him?

 

“You take my fingers so well,” he mumbles. “But you take my dick so much better, babe.”

 

Louis, through his panting, delivers an almost scathing, “Then _fuck_ me.”

 

Harry smirks the way he always does when Louis gives him demands like that—ones Harry was already planning on completing. It’s a welcome sight—the most beautiful boy in the world, tied up hot and willing on Harry’s bed while he whines for Harry’s cock.

 

Harry guides himself into Louis with a practiced precision. The head pops in with minimal difficulty; they both moan louder than usual at the feeling.

 

To silence himself so he can focus on the sounds Louis makes, Harry latches his lips onto Louis’ nipple and bites down before sucking it to soothe it. A high pitched, breathy sort of moan falls from Louis’ lips as his hands struggle uselessly above his head. Harry bites his other nipple with a smile.

 

“ _God_ , fuck, Harry,” Louis moans this time, panting much harder than before already. “Please move.”

 

He doesn’t offer him a verbal response, keeping his lips sealed around the hardened nub of his nipple and thrusts his hips forward without a moment spared.

 

“Oh,” Louis breathes. When Harry looks up, his hands are clenched into fists around his restraint. He gives him a hard thrust, aiming directly for his prostate; judging by Louis’ reaction, he’s done well. “ _Fuck_ , don’t—don’t do that so much.” Harry gives him a look. “Don’t wanna come ‘til you do.”

 

Harry laughs—his beautiful, generous boyfriend. “I want to come while you’re coming on my cock.”

 

His boy bites his lip and nods profusely. “That’s. That works.”

 

He starts thrusting harder the second the words leave Louis’ mouth; he’s been hard for upwards of an hour and he’s got a perfect, tight hole clenching around him every few seconds. There’s no possible way he would want to go slow, and Louis—well, Louis is moaning loud enough to clear out every other thought from Harry’s brain.

 

“Always so good for me, Lou.” The sound of skin slapping skin is driving him crazy. “Bet you’d lay here and let me pound away at you for hours, huh? Just to please me.”

 

“Do anything for you.” Louis gasps for breath as Harry digs his hands into the curve of his hips. “’Cause you’d do anything for me.”

 

Harry doesn’t get the chance to respond, too busy thrusting and heaving and groaning to think straight. He aims for Louis’ prostate with every movement of his hips, wants so badly to watch his boy fall apart in pleasure before he gives in to his own orgasm.

 

He uses both hands on either of Louis’ thighs to spread them open even further so he can fuck deeper. He’s sure they sound downright crude at the moment with how fast Harry’s driving his hips into him, and suddenly Louis’ body is ceasing up, _shit shit shit—_

His name seems to rip out of Louis’ chest as he comes, his back arching and falling as he rides it out. Harry keeps up the harsh pace of his thrusts until he feels himself finally, _finally_ get the release he’s wanted so badly.

 

Their lips come together subconsciously, licking into each other’s mouths with an animalistic fervor. The kiss calms down only as they do, going from messy and frantic to gentle and controlled.

 

Harry undoes the knot of his scarf delicately. Louis’ hands move to fall back at his sides, but Harry catches them before they can make it. He loops his fingers through each one and holds them pointedly next to Louis’ head as he leans his lips toward Louis’ ear.

 

“Don’t you _ever_ worry about doing enough in the bedroom for me,” he whispers firmly, “because I’m impossibly attracted to your precious little body as it is. All I’m ever going to _want_ is you.”

 

Louis’ eyes dart over every inch of Harry’s face while his mouth breaks into a smile. “Don’t let anyone hear you sweet talking me like that, babe. It’ll ruin every ounce of fear you’ve put in our peers.”

 

Harry buries his amused laughter into Louis’ neck. “You’re much more important than them.”

 

Louis hums. “Yeah?”

 

“Always.”

 

~~~

 

As the summer goes on, Harry realizes his Friday night company has become quite repetitive— time and time again finds Harry and Louis surrounded by Liam, Niall, and Zayn. Harry wonders if this is what the rest of his Friday nights are going to look like. He also wonders if he would even mind.

 

Because Harry likes them, he supposes. And Louis seems to have a constant smile on his face around this particular group of people, and if it makes Louis happy, it makes Harry happy.

 

Somehow, the night’s conversation has evolved from the new movie Louis and Liam saw last week at the cinema to embarrassing moments. The spotlight was equally split amongst the four of them, Harry himself more than content to just listen and cuddle his boy, but then Louis suddenly jumps in very loudly with a declaration of, “Oh! Harry pretended to blow a pencil.”

 

Liam grimaces, Zayn blinks, and Niall has his typical blank expression staring him down.

 

“What the fuck is that? A euphemism?” Niall asks, volume too loud for the size of the room.

 

Louis shakes his head. “No. He sat in the back of drama class and sucked on a pencil, all sexy-like, trying to _entice_ me.”

 

Niall scoffs. “Fucking gross.”

 

Liam frowns. “You never told me about that, Lou.”

 

At this point, Harry decides to get involved. “Probably because as much as Louis is making fun of it right now, it more than worked at the time.”

 

Zayn’s howl of a laugh barely surprises anyone. “Of fucking course it did.”

 

“I think I would’ve been more embarrassed to have gotten hard from it,” Niall interjects helpfully, Harry grins triumphantly and pulls Louis even closer to him.

 

“I’ll have no shame in what I did to get you. Worth it, even if it did taste like shit.” Harry rubs soothingly up Louis’ side as he says it. “Maybe consider the extent of the story you wanna tell before you open your pretty mouth.”

 

“I got hard over your _mouth_ , not a piece of fucking wood,” Louis all but shouts indignantly, doing his best to defend what little dignity he has left around this particular group of people.

 

There’s a grin creeping onto Harry’s face without his consent. “You admitting you got hard?”

 

“New conversation, before you try to start fucking in my living room,” comes Niall’s hasty voice. Louis tosses a piece of popcorn at him in retaliation. Niall doesn’t flinch. “How’s that girlfriend coming, Li?”

 

“I can’t answer that, considering I don’t have a girlfriend,” Liam responds almost grimly.

 

“He’s not shut up about her for days,” Louis interjects helpfully. “Sophia this and Sophia that, we jumped off a yacht together and then planned our wedding, blah blah blah.”

 

Harry remembers hearing about this—Liam met a girl while on his family vacation and they apparently hit it off. They were both in the same area, and she even mentioned a possibility of her family’s move and switching to the same school for her final year, but Liam still hadn’t made a move with the excuse of that not being a definite thing. Louis had been going on and on about it to Harry ever since he first heard about it, and Harry almost wanted to get them together himself just so his boyfriend could stop fretting over it.

 

“I never said a word about a _wedding_ , where are you even getting that from?!” Liam sounds absolutely mortified, but Louis only rolls his eyes. “Just ask her the fuck out, Liam.”

 

“Or tongue an eraser,” Zayn tosses in, looking all too pleased with himself. “That’s the equivalent of fellatio on a pencil, right?”

 

Harry purses his lips and levels Zayn with a look while Niall and Liam huff their own laughter. Louis pats his chest with a smug smile. “You can make fun all you want, but it worked pretty fucking well and I won’t regret a second of it.”

 

Louis coos at him. “Is that some embarrassment I hear, Harry Styles?”

 

Harry shakes his head. “Aren’t we focused on Liam’s girlfriend?”

 

“Enough room to talk about you both,” Zayn hums.

 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “Maybe we should bring up Zayn’s love life. Since there’s enough room to talk about that stuff and whatnot.”

 

“Fine,” Zayn responds, nonplussed.

 

“We all know that doesn’t work. Zayn doesn’t care,” Niall explains with a frown. “And I still don’t know the feeling of shame.”

 

He was right, damn it. Harry _knew_ that, but he still wanted to at least try. Fuck.

 

Thankfully, before anyone else can try and continue to get on Harry’s back over something that happened months ago and did get his mouth on Louis’ dick in the end, Liam’s phone buzzes. It takes no time at all for Louis to howl and grab at it, mumbling, “Sophiaaa,” in a sickeningly sweet tone.

 

Harry’s got a little sympathy for the man, really, but watching Louis tease him is just too enjoyable to try and get it to end.

 

He keeps a steady hand on Louis’ hip even as he leans and fights with Liam for his phone like the proper menace he is. Niall doesn’t flinch, presumably from being used to their antics, while Zayn gives one confused look before simply turning away.

 

Harry decides to just sit and wait their bickering out, and maybe that has something to do with how every time Louis leans further and further away, a bigger sliver of skin is revealed for Harry’s hands to latch onto.

 

Eventually Liam manages to get his phone secured underneath his leg, at which point Harry pulls Louis back with a smile and a mumble of, “Down, boy.”

 

As predicted, Louis elbows his side. “I’m not a dog.”

 

“No,” Harry agrees, “you’re just a child.”

 

Louis stares him down for a few seconds before huffing. “I’ll wrestle you too, Styles.”

 

Harry grins. “I don’t think I would mind it nearly as much as Liam did.”

 

Louis’ response is to scoot off of Harry’s lap and dig his cold toes into Harry’s thigh. He probably hasn’t realized by now that Harry isn’t bothered by it, but for his sake, Harry makes a face in his direction.

 

“Think we should turn on some TV,” Niall pipes up. “We’ve got all the movie channels, surely something’s playing that isn’t shit.”

 

He starts flipping through the guide while Zayn gives him a Yes or No to each highlighted title—Liam butts in at one point to dispute Zayn’s answer, which evolves into an elaborate discussion that lasts long enough for Niall to find something else to watch himself.

 

“We’re stuck with these three for life, I’m pretty sure,” Louis mumbles once his attention isn’t solely focused on the bickering. “Gonna take a lot to shake them off.”

 

Harry surveys the three of them and shrugs. “We’ll be fine. Just have to start getting a little too cozy and they’ll all stop whatever they’re doing.”

 

Louis gasps. “You’re a fucking genius, Harry.”

 

Once Louis sticks a hand underneath the waistband of Harry’s pants, Harry grabs his wrist. “That wasn’t an invitation to touch, babe.”

 

He watches Louis’ face fall into a look of confusion, his hand slowly retracting until Harry puts it on his chest with a smile. “Kidding.”

 

Louis groans. “You’re such a dick.”

 

“Shh, shh,” he whispers, and then intentionally louder, “before I give you a spanking.”

 

The room falls silent save for the noise from the TV, which Niall coincidentally turns up. Liam looks scandalized while Zayn looks more annoyed, but they’ve both stopped arguing with each other and turned their attention toward the movie on the screen.

 

Louis shoves at his chest; when Harry looks up at his face, his cheeks are pink. “That doesn’t leave this room,” he says to the room at large, then so quiet only Harry can hear, “or I’m spanking _you_.”

 

Harry doesn’t feel very threatened. “I got them quiet, yeah?”

 

A sigh. “You’re very lucky I love you.”

 

Harry can’t disagree.

 

~~~

 

Nothing in Harry’s life has ever seemed to flow as perfectly as his relationship with Louis.

 

Things are fucking great. Even when Louis is intentionally trying to push his buttons—which is quite often—Harry can’t bring himself to be annoyed for more than a moment at a time. Typically in those instances, Louis is just aiming for a nice, hard fuck anyway.

 

If you asked Louis, he would tell you theirs was a storybook romance. Harry knows, because he _has_ asked, and it made butterflies tickle his insides.

 

“We may have been a little more erotica to begin with,” Louis elaborated, “but we got to the happy ending eventually. And that’s what makes us special.”

 

Harry knows that every other couple in the world would have something similar to say about their relationship, but Harry genuinely believes it when Louis says it.

 

One night, after a particularly sweet round of sex, Harry feels his body turn to mush. So many words start filling his mind that he thinks he may explode if he doesn’t speak them.

 

“In the beginning,” he starts, voice delightfully hoarse, “when we were—were just fucking, I kept, like. Waiting for the novelty of sleeping with you to wear off.” He swallows, kissing Louis’ jaw sluggishly. “You’d think I would’ve realized it wasn’t gonna happen after the fifth or sixth time, and I think some part of me did, subconsciously. I mean, we just jackrabbitted in a fucking janitor’s closet and suddenly the thought of sex with anyone else sounded bland in comparison.”

 

“Probably ‘cause you had it easy.” Louis smiles. “You wanted a challenge, eh?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, pulling Louis closer to his chest. “Maybe that boosted my ego in the beginning.”

 

“A true ego-maniac,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s shirt. “My ego-maniac.”

 

“Your ego-maniac,” Harry agrees without a second thought, rubbing up the length of Louis’ arms with a gentle smile.

 

“The one who loves me,” Louis continues.

 

“The one who loves you,” Harry repeats, closing Louis into the sanctity of his arms and deciding he never wants to let go.

 

~~~

 

“Is that fucking real?”

 

Harry grins. “Feel for yourself.”

 

A curious hand comes to trace over Harry’s chest, sighing in awe. “ _Harry_.”

 

He watches him as he does it and wishes he had a camera on him, because the sight of Louis’ dainty hand caressing the beautiful _L_ written in intricate cursive right over Harry’s heart has to be the single greatest thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Like it?” he asks.

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis repeats, suddenly digging his thumb into the skin as if it was going to disappear at any second—it wasn’t, something Harry’s tattoo artist made sure of. “That’s—that’s _permanent._ ”

 

“You’re permanent,” Harry replies, simple as can be. Louis meets his gaze and melts, suddenly pressing himself against Harry’s naked chest and hugging him tight. Harry wraps his arms right back around him without a second thought.

 

“You’re gonna make me cry, you dick.”

 

Harry hums, thinks if Louis cries he just might have to shed a tear, too. Instead of voicing as much, he presses his lips to the shell of Louis’ ear and quietly mumbles, “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU ♡
> 
> *** i have continued writing stories in different fandoms (currently bts!), so if you would like to follow me or my writing on my new ao3, [message my tumblr](http://zourry-a.tumblr.com/ask) (not anonymously) and i'll give you the link!


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